


Please

by lilsmartass



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 13:06:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsmartass/pseuds/lilsmartass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk can be manipulated by one one person, for one person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: PG13 for non explicit (but very heavily implied) slash and torture oooo and very slight D/s themes.  
> Disclaimer: If I owned Kirk, Spock or the Star Trek universe I’d have better things to do than write porny fanfiction.  
> Genre: Angst, drama, character study, introspection  
> Author’s Note: My first ever piece of slash (between anyone) and I’m not even a K/S shipper so please be kind.

**Please**

Spock loves what he can do to Jim. He loves that with his fingers, tongue and a little time to play, he can reduce the great and powerful Captain of the Starship _Enterprise_ to a barely coherent, begging mess. He loves hearing Jim beg for him; silently as he lifts his hips higher, shamelessly searching for friction, or with nonsensical whimpering moans and groans as Spock takes him as close to the edge as they can both bear before reeling him back again. For Spock, it is a true demonstration of his love for Jim, to tirelessly pleasure him and torment him. He lets Jim simply lie there, placing no demands upon him, placing nothing upon him but his own feather light touches and warm breath. He loves it when verbal entreaties are finally ripped from him, as Jim pleads for more, for harder, for Spock to never, never stop. And Jim knows that such pleas are a concession of his own pride, knows what he is doing and why he is doing it, but he is, by that point, too desperate for more of his bondmate’s skin against his, and for Spock’s mind within his own, too caught up in his enjoyment of Spock’s rumbling endearments. Most, he loves when Jim breaks, when he finally and simply whispers, “ _Please_.”

Spock loves being the only one for whom Jim Kirk would even contemplate, much less make, such a concession. He vows to lavish such attention on Jim’s body as often as possible for the rest of his life.

 

Spock hates what he can do to Jim. He hates how he can be used against him to get under that consummate command image and make the panic show. They have been captured (again! Starfleet needs to start looking into who exactly has access to distress beacons with Federation signatures because this time it’s the Klingons). Commander Kor is delighted to, once again, be holding Kirk prisoner and seems to be hoping to use the whole thing as a way of regaining the honour he lost in Organian Treaty (or Organian fiasco if that’s the side of the fence you’re on) and he’s desperate to force Kirk to acknowledge his superiority. And it really is simple. He once again breaks out the much hated mindsifter and whilst Spock can keep the classified information he is privy to inside his own skull, the cost of that is the sacrifice of his pain suppressing shields. He’s screaming and screaming, his voice loud and hoarse and ragged and when the pain finally stops, and his voice is nothing more than tortured gasps for air he swears he must be hearing echoes of himself in his mind because he can still hear the word “stop” being repeated over and over with desperate intensity. There is a quietly rumbled threat to turn the machine on again and Spock tries his hardest to brace himself for the pain, but it is worse, much worse, as Jim’s voice sounds again, quieter now, but no less desperate, broken, “ _Please_.”

They are rescued, of course, with no lasting damage. But Spock cannot, and will not, be the means by which his Captain and th’y’la can be brought so low. He leaves for Gol in the morning. 


	2. Please Kirk POV

**Please: Kirk**

 

“ _Please,_ ” James Kirk whispers into the dark, stillness of the quarters he shares with his bondmate, “ _please Spock, please-_ ” he is silenced with another kiss, and the warmer than human hand dragging down his body makes him groan and arch against the bed. He doesn’t know how much more of this tormenting he can endure before he is quite mad and that knowledge is like a warmth which tingles through his limbs and his mind. He loves this, loves Spock. He loves how the Vulcan can make him feel, loves how the Vulcan is the only one to whom he does not _mind_ losing or surrendering control because he can feel Spock’s love and devotion to him. And he is content, no ecstatic, to feel that love in each press of Spock’s lips against Jim’s own skin, each torturously soft touch of his fingers,  each brush of his mind which whispers _t’hy’la_ deep within Jim’s own consciousness. He loves that here, in these quarters, he doesn’t have to be the Captain James Tiberius Kirk and he would do anything for this to last forever. In these moments, he can take off that mask and mantle and lay down the heavy burdens of command and let Spock own and dominate him completely. He loves that such surrender feels so good.

And a tiny part of him, buried so deep under layers of love and enjoyment and straight up denial, hates Spock for doing this to him; hates Spock for being able to reduce him so and make him welcome it, even plead for it. But the hatred means nothing, just as, at this moment, his pride means nothing. It is tiny and infinitesimal and hidden under sparkling golden love. And hidden away, Jim hates him all the more for that, for making him feel that this love, these feelings are worth the cost of his openness and vulnerability.

“ _Please,_ ” James Kirk whispers into the abrupt silence that permeates the stone chamber now his bondmate has stopped screaming. “ _Please stop, please-_ “ he falls silent as his legs crumble under him, no longer able to support him so that he is dumped, on his knees, at Kor’s feet, because he knows what agony a Vulcan can endure in silence and hearing Spock scream like that is the pain of a thousand knives. He hates this, hates this situation. He hates that he cannot fight his way out, hates that he cannot talk their way free because he is outnumbered and out gunned. And he is frightened, no terrified, both at what is happening to his bondmate and what he might do to stop it. He hates that although Spock is not revealing the answers Kor so wants, that he, Captain James Tiberius Kirk, would do anything to stop this. In this moment, his command persona has been stripped from him, leaving Jim willing to sell himself into slavery to this Klingon and count it a bargain if it would spare the Vulcan any more suffering. He hates the way such surrender tastes in his mouth.

And later, when he reads the goodbye note left on his bed, a tiny part of him, one buried under layers of pain and betrayal and hurt, will love Spock all the more; love Spock for being able to do what was necessary. And that love is everything, just as, for a Starship Captain his duty and not his lover must be everything, because Spock could recognise how emotionally compromised he is and could be and do this awful unspeakable thing and leave. Jim loves him all the more for that, because he would have been unable to do so; whatever the cost.


	3. Afterwards: Spock and McCoy

**Afterwards: Doctor McCoy and Spock**

“How’re you feeling?” It is a question asked out of habit, and a poor opening, but McCoy is too nervous, wound to tight on guilt and regret and determination to think of better.

Dark eyes bore into blue, “He has spoken to you,” Spock says. He sounds as impassive as always, he barely pauses in gathering his clothes.

McCoy is unsurprised that Spock’s first words are of Jim, but wonders how he knows. Can he smell Jim? _Feel_ him in some way? “He has. That doesn’t answer my question Spock.”

“I am...adequate.”

“Spock,” he grabs the Vulcan’s arm. Vulcan’s hate touch and Spock is no different, but McCoy needs to touch him, needs the Vulcan to feel in his gentle grip and true caring that this next is not a sentence bourn of malice or jealousy. “Spock...you need to leave.”

 “I am leaving doctor, if you will cease restraining me and allow me to get my other boot-”

Frustration rears within him and he hastily tamps it down. Now is not the time and he knows that Spock is hurting. He can’t read the Vulcan’s emotions as well as Jim can, but he knows that when the super-Vulcan mask is in place that something is truly wrong. “That’s not what I mean Spock, and you know it.” He stops and thinks, but there is no way to soften the blow of what he has convinced himself he must say. “Look, Spock, there’s a lot of things we’ve never seen eye to eye on, but both of us would do anything to protect Jim.” He doesn’t even see the Vulcan’s small movement of agreement, he is too busy thinking. Jim is a man of intense passion and loyalty, he would do anything within the confines of his own code of honour for his crew, his ship, his friends, his family, drawing no distinction between them and willing to move heaven and earth for them. But for Spock, he would do more. He would do anything within his power, honourable or no. For Spock he would put a dagger through McCoy’s heart himself. “I can gloss over this instance Spock, but Kor will talk. We both know it. And a Captain who is emotionally compromised is a liability who must be relieved of duty. You need to do the logical thing and-”

“I know,” the words sound full of tears to a human ear, a truth acknowledged and understood. In a moment, McCoy understands the terrible crushing power of logic.

 McCoy does not finish his sentence. They both know that such compromiseis dangerous for all else but Spock that Jim holds dear, namely of course, his crew and his command. “...Well...then good,” he says instead, somewhat lamely, hoping there are no tears in his own voice. He barely notices as Spock, at last, moves out of his loose grip.

He turns and leaves. He had meant to stay, to comfort Spock, if such a thing were possible, to help him arrange his goodbye, to help him break it to Jim. But he cannot stay here, cannot stay where a Vulcan’s, where _Spock’s_ pain is so tangible as to make the walls bleed and cry with it. He understands at last why James Kirk of all people had willingly gone to his knees to prevent such agony. He has always wanted to see Vulcan emotion, but now he will be content to never do so again. It is terrible and bottomless. So he leaves, grateful he has at least spared Spock of the need to make the decision for himself.

 

“How’re you feeling?”

Dark eyes bore into blue, “He has spoken to you,” Spock says, struggling for his usual impassivity and turns to resume dressing.

There is a tiny, almost unnoticeable hint of surprise, “He has. That doesn’t answer my question Spock.”

“I am...adequate.”

“Spock,” and a hand, instinctively compassionate, shoots out to grab his arm in a wordless gesture of support. Spock looks at the hand, he does not remove it, at this moment, he does not wish to shield against the physician’s honest affection, it is a relief from the bleak loathing within himself. “Spock...you need to leave.”

Spock tries to deliberately misunderstand, illogically hoping to buy himself a little more time, just one more night in his bondmate’s arms. “I am leaving doctor, if you will cease restraining me and allow me to get my other boot-”

“That’s not what I mean Spock, and you know it.” There is a silence, both men frozen in tableau. “Look, Spock, there’s a lot of things we’ve never seen eye to eye on, but both of us would do anything to protect Jim.” Spock inclines his head, though he knows the doctor has no need of his acknowledgement or agreement. He would move heaven and earth if that were Jim’s wish. And to keep Jim safe, Spock would endure the fires of the damned. Or the bleak ice of loneliness.” I can gloss over this instance Spock, but Kor will talk. We both know it. And a Captain who is emotionally compromised is a liability who must be relieved of duty. You need to do the logical thing and-”

“I know,” the words are harsh, guttural, choked; not at all like the Vulcan’s usual calm tones, but they ring with a truth none the less. Spock has known what he must do since Jim’s first plea, the on that wasn’t even vocalised, echoed through his mind.

He jerks backwards, and McCoy’s arm falls limply at his side. “...Well...then good,” the physician says gruffly and turns to walk away. His eyes are full of tears and his mouth full of words he cannot say, no matter that they will haunt him. At once, Spock understands the terrible power of living by emotions.

McCoy thinks he has played the villain. He thinks he has done his bit to make this easier for them. Spock restrains a sigh, for Leonard McCoy always forgets that he is not human, forgets that he has other abilities. The comforting touch on his arm tells him all he needs to know. McCoy has said the cold, factual, _logical_ words in the hope that they will be the ones which ring true within his Vulcan friend. Spock knows that McCoy cares not at all for the regulation of emotions, he seeks only to protect. McCoy knows, as Spock himself knows, that if this could happen once it could happen again. Neither of them wants Jim to have to suffer this once more; but McCoy, but _Bones_ ,does not want what must be done to prevent it to be a burden Spock must bear either.

He finishes dressing and returns to his cabin to compose his farewell. He does not share his understanding nor his gratitude with McCoy. The man is his friend, and he is Jim’s friend. Let him believe he has helped.


	4. Please: Resolutions

_Please: Resolutions_

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, obviously.

 **Fandom:** Star Trek: TOS

 **Wordcount:** 1375

 **Genre:** Angst, drama

 **Rating:** PG 13

 **Warnings:** Warning for a happy ending (at least that’s how I see it) but kind of a tearful one and slash.

 **A/N:** This is the final part of my _Please_ series. The other parts can be found here. _Please_ (http://ncc1701a.livejournal.com/612.html#cutid1) _, Please: Kirk_ (http://ncc1701a.livejournal.com/4179.html#cutid1)and _Afterwards: Spock and McCoy_ (http://ncc1701a.livejournal.com/4939.html). The part _Afterwards_ was never posted on the kirkspock archive due to lack of shippy content.

 **A/N2:** I’m not sure about this stylistically. I don’t feel that it’s entirely in-keeping with the mirroring techniques I used in the other parts of the series, but let me know.

Kirk is where Spock had known he would be. He is where he had always run to at times of emotional stress or discomfort aboard the _Enterprise_. The observation lounge was dark and silent and someone, perhaps Montgomery Scott who knows the Captain- no, Admiral now- well has advised the lower decks to stay clear. Kirk does not turn as the door slide open. He has always been able to accurately predict what Spock will do, and nothing but the Vulcan’s leaving and subsequent return has surprised him since their earliest days.

Spock hesitates in the doorway, uncharacteristically uncertain of his next move as his eyes rake over that familiar profile outlined against the stars. Spock burns against Kirk’s mind as he waits, his proximity reactivating the bond which for so long has been buried beneath layers of duty and a mantra of refusing to care.

At last Kirk turns, “You’d best come in,” his gaze drinks in the sight of the Vulcan, of his Vulcan, and his heart lurches unpleasantly: hope is there, and relief at finding what was lost, desire and need and a burning, breathtaking want and a terrible feeling of loss that he can no longer read those stoic features.

At once, Spock steps forward; it has too long been a habit to follow this man’s orders. His dark eyes take in the familiar face now, not merely the well known shoulders and a flicker in his mind which would greatly displease the masters of Gol tells him he is experiencing an emotion. Though he is too out of practice to guess at what it might be. He wonders if it is the same one which is making Kirk’s eyes glimmer so brightly.

“Spock...how are you?” The question is inadequate, Kirk recognises that immediately it is uttered; it fails to express all he wants and Kirk fights to keep himself from shifting, fidgeting and blushing, but his level gaze slips from Spock’s face.

“I am...well,” the answer is pitiful, even Spock knows it, but he lacks the words to say that what he had said in sickbay was true, that V’Ger has taught him to unify logic and emotions, he only needs to remember how to feel since the rigours of the Kolinar and all can be as it was.

There is a long silence. One which is filled with an awkwardness which they have never before shared.

“Why are you here Spock?” the question is tired, the voice strained with tears, hoarse and broken. It brings back too many memories and Spock’s chest stutters in his side and he cannot answer, merely continues to look upon his bondmate. “You did the right thing by leaving. You...you did what I couldn’t and it was right and necessary and you were the one strong enough to do it,” the words have the repetitive sing song quality of something repeated endlessly to get through the dark reaches of the night. “So why are you here now?” _When you know I’m not strong enough to send you away, not again._

“I felt you,” his voice is perfectly, completely level; even Sarek could not find fault and Kirk’s eyes snap at once to his face. Spock regrets that he has purged from his mind as associated with too much emotion all that he once knew of giving this human at least subtle non-verbal cues without compromising himself, instead, he stands passively under the scrutiny and then continues, “Your mind screamed out for me,” he thinks that once he may have added _at a most inconvenient moment_ but he cannot be sure now that they will be taken as a joke, so the words stay on his tongue, covered quickly with, “and I could not refuse you.” _I never could._

The bond thrums between them.

Spock feels what Kirk feels, like looking at a rainbow oil stain on a puddle. He can no longer parse the emotions of that well known soul and know **what** he is feeling, but he knows Kirk feels it. And he knows, with a soul deep, gut wrenching certainty, that Kirk does not blame him. Kirk does not blame him for being captured in the first place and starting this mess, does not blame him for leaving, does not blame him for the emotional turmoil and psychic distress of a strained bond that saw him promoted out of deep space duty for his mental health. He sees that the love Kirk held for him had never dimmed in its burning and that Kirk, psi null and defenceless against such feelings and how they might affect a Vulcan mental bond, had been forced to wall away part of his very mind to prevent madness in the inferno.

Kirk thinks he feels Spock, like the feel of thunder in storm laden air. Mostly it is a blankness, a presence, an **otherness** , Spock no longer feels in words and pictures and repressed but present emotions, or at least he is not projecting them, but he is there. And he knows, in the parched recesses of his psi null mind where he buried the bond before it drove him insane, a total acceptance, whatever he does now Spock will accept and love him no less, whatever he had done-been forced to do-that had necessitated Spock’s leaving, his love had never wavered. It had had to be stripped out of his very consciousness by means of gruelling, intrusive mind melds and it still brought Spock when he was needed.

“Spock...” another long silence. At last Kirk starts again. “Spock, nothing has changed. It is...illogical...for us to be with each other, I’m still emotionally compromised by you.”

Spock steps up to him, refusing to allow a third silence when there is so much which needs to be said. He grabs Kirk by the biceps and holds him, at arm’s length so they are gazing into one another’s eyes, the bond singing between them at this touch. “Captain...” he stops, just for a second, to breathe and to compose himself, then begins again, “Admiral, everything has changed. There are some...emotions...worth fighting for; you are no more illogically compromised than I.”

Kirk breaks his hold. Spock, not expecting such a reaction, had not been gripping him tightly.

“I can’t Spock, I can’t do it again and have you leave the next time I...The next time it is deemed necessary.”

Spock steps up close once again, though this time does not touch. Kirk, clearly expecting such a response, merely eyes him challengingly.

“You can Admiral. This time I will not leave. It was right, it was logical that I should, but it was not necessary.”

A flicker of something in those too bright, hazel eyes: bewilderment perhaps. The question is drawn from a well of despair and loneliness that doesn’t dare to hope, but Kirk has never needed an answer more. “How can you say that?”

Amusement, perhaps, shone oh so briefly in Spock’s familiar chocolate gaze. The answer is given straight from the new knowledge imparted by V’Ger and Spock has never been so grateful for a discovery. “A human partner would not have done.”

Kirk gapes at him.

Spock raises an eyebrow.

“A human partner would have recognised the danger and steps would have been taken to mitigate it, but eternal separation and misery for both parties, no, that need not have been done. Logically, it was sound, but when V’Ger showed me how to assimilate my emotions too...the first thing I did was-”

“-kiss me,” Kirk finishes his sentence as if they have been apart only hours instead of years.

This time, when Spock reaches out to him, Kirk reaches back and Spock clasps his hand and entwines their fingers, a tangible reminder.

“Spock-”

Spock comes still closer; their bodies flush against one another, two hearts beating an uncertain staccato rhythm. Spock’s temperature scalds Kirk, echoing the fire in his mind whilst Kirk’s cooler body allows Spock something on which to focus and to hang the remnants of his control upon.

“We shouldn’t-” The protest is weak, words of duty, of self imposed belief, of fear.

Spock will not see them both denied what they need any longer, “Jim,” he whispers, his bondmate's name tasting like ambrosia on his tongue, “Please.”


End file.
